


Fear not the thorns

by relenafanel



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6011718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relenafanel/pseuds/relenafanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you enjoy the fragrance of a rose, you must accept the thorns which it bears. - Isaac Hayes.</p><p>AKA</p><p>Laurent is kind of a prick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear not the thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reallyyeahokay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallyyeahokay/gifts).



> For reallyyeahokay, who probably thought this would never happen again but then Captive Prince happened.
> 
> Notes: While this doesn't have the trigger warnings the Captive Prince trilogy does, I have no idea how to tag for Laurent's personality. So, trigger warning: Laurent is in this.
> 
> Laurent is in this and uses the idea of sex as a weapon.

Vere had been a standard on the corner next to Damen’s family company for as long as he could remember.  It was a staple for the neighbourhood, the place where Damen had gotten the corsage and boutonniere for his prom, and when his father had died while Damen was in his last semester of college, it was where he’d immediately turned to for flower arrangements in his grief.  It was the same place that had supplied the flowers for his mother’s funeral, though he’d been too young to remember at the time.

 

So, when Damen needed flowers, going to Vere was natural, familiar.

 

 As young as the man who kept the shop was, a few years younger than Damen at least, he too felt like he’d been there for as long as Damen could remember.

 

"This bouquet reminds me of you," Damen told him, looking at the lovely arrangement of white roses and blue forget-me-nots on display at the front counter.  He fingered the petals of one of the roses, completely missing the way Laurent's back tensed.  Damen wasn't the most visual of people, but the white and blue reminded him of the colours the shopkeeper usually wore, of his blue eyes and white apron, in a way that was purely aesthetic.  "It's very lovely."

 

He meant it as an offhand observation.  Nothing more than a way to pass the time as Laurent wrapped up the flowers Damen had picked out for Jokaste for Valentine’s Day.  He requested Vere’s most expensive vase and had hand-picked luxurious and colourful orchids to fill it.  Laurent had weathered Damen’s selectiveness with the patience of someone looking to make an expensive sale with a customer he saw every week.

 

Damen was experiencing that floating sensation of falling in love, everything reminding him of romance.  Being in a flower shop didn’t help.  He thought of his dinner plans with Jokaste.  The key he’d copied for his apartment warm in his pocket.

 

"That's one of our most popular wedding bouquets," Laurent answered, and his tone sounded mild.  "Did you mean to imply I remind you of marriage?  Maybe if your girlfriend reminded you more of marriage when you looked at her, she wouldn't be getting expensive arrangements from your brother.   _Jokaste, I had a wonderful time with you last night. These flowers remind me of the silk soft flower between your thighs_ ," he finished in a pointed, scathing tone.  " _Love eternal, Kastor_."

 

And with that, the bubble burst.

 

"What?" Damen questioned, taking a step back.  Reeling.  He felt like he was sinking backwards, caught in a tide that had overwhelmed him.  The surprise of hearing those words flashed hot against his skin, burning equally as cold as the tone they'd been said in.  He knew his cheeks were heating, embarrassment and helpless anger just as effective as the verbal slap he’d just received.

 

"Didn't you know?" Laurent asked, sounding amused and giving Damen a smile as he finished tying a bow around the flower arrangement.  The smile was sharp and pointed. "He buys her better flowers than you do, but then he isn't in here every week spending money on other people, so it makes sense that he can afford it."

 

"Jokaste is faithful to me," he answered in a stunned tone, grabbing the flower arrangement from Laurent and holding it in front of him as a shield.

 

"As faithful to you as you are to her," Laurent answered, and in a snide tone finished with: "Come again."

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Damen never wanted to return to Vere.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Unfortunately, Damen had to go back.  He understood that he could probably easily find another flower shop without going too far out of his way, but Vere's branding held a certain amount of prestige in the neighbouring office buildings.  If he started buying flowers from somewhere else, his employees would see it as a slap in the face.

 

Damen knew what that felt like, ironically.

 

The worst part was that Laurent had been right.  Damen might not have put together the clues to add up to Jokaste being with his brother, but he could definitely see them in retrospect, and he was no one's fool.

 

Still, it took him five minutes of procrastination before he got up the nerve to walk through the doors to Vere.  He’d diverted once after leaving the office to get coffee, and he wasn’t sure how many other places he could walk into as a distraction before it got ridiculous.

 

He _was_ being ridiculous.  Laurent wasn’t frightening.  He was just a man who, on the busiest day of the year for a flower shop, had told a loyal customer he was being cheated on.

 

Laurent observed him with cool eyes as Damen walked through the door and headed for the fridge containing the moderately priced bouquets.  Damen regretted that part of the expectation with his employees was for Damen to hand-select arrangements himself.  If he was able to call in the order it would be easier for everyone.

 

Hell.  He could pass it off to his assistant, and would, if two dozen sets of eyes didn't track his progress when he came back with a bouquet in his hands, wondering which of them had made the most sales that week and had earned themselves thanks.  Damen had established the routine as a personal touch after his father had reigned over Akielos after his mother’s death like a king on a throne.

 

Damen didn't say a word as he handed Laurent the flowers, filling out the small card as Laurent prepared the bouquet efficiently.  He took the card as well as Damen's credit card, his eyes barely flickering to the name on either.  "Come again," he said, as though he hadn't wrecked Damen's love life the week before.

 

Damen was kind of obligated to come again, wasn't he? He didn't like having his hands tied by anything, and yet when he looked at Laurent's expressionless face, he knew that he would be back in for the standard Vere customer service experience.

 

The worst part?  Damen couldn’t stop paying attention to Laurent.  He noticed the startling blue of his eyes, how cold they looked with the unforgiving set of his features.  His mouth was a harsh line, and his body language tense, as though it was taking everything in his power not to launch himself over the counter and strangle Damen.  Even then, Damen noticed the shape of him, the beauty in the tension, in the control.  His eyes watched long, pale fingers tying a bow with perfunctory, practiced ease, and he _considered_.

 

Maybe it was time to deviate and start buying chocolates.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Erasmus cried when he received chocolates, thinking he was being punished.  Nikandros had stared Damen down over the sobs, his eyebrows clearly judgmental and saying 'fix this.'

 

Damen took a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to Erasmus, patting his shoulder awkwardly.  Erasmus was far too confused to ask questions about what just happened when Damen fled.

 

No such luck with Nikandros.  Nikandros had witnessed the entire thing and very clearly had _concerns._

 

"What was that?" Nikandros asked, closing the door to Damen's office for privacy.

 

"What was what?" Damen questioned, feigning ignorance.  He sat behind his desk so he could survey Nikandros calmly from behind it, inwardly wincing because that had been a patent move of his father’s.

 

Nikandros's mouth thinned as he stared across the desk at Damen, crossing his arms over his chest.  "You know."

 

Damen waved it aside.  "It’s nothing.  I thought... my father is no longer in charge.  We don't have to do things the same way he did."

 

"You were the one who initiated weekly rewards," Nikandros reminded him.  "Your father would have considered them a waste of money.  If hundred dollar bills are the new standard, I have to agree with him."

 

"I don't think Vere and Akielos have a future together, professionally," Damen said.  "I would prefer to not return to their establishment, so unless you're willing to start going instead, I think it's better to break the habit all at once."

 

"You're not thinking like a professional," Nikandros observed, because his radar for when Damen was full of shit was far too attuned from years of friendship before Damen became his boss.  "The hands-on touch was nice, but if it's not sustainable, then it's time to do what normal people do and leave a standing order for Vere to deliver every week."

 

"Great," Damen nodded.  "Set that up."

 

Nikandros stared at him.

 

Damen stared back.

  
"Are you scared of the florist?" Nikandros asked in an expression of extreme judgement. 

 

"I didn't say that," Damen responded.  "Will you do it or not?"

 

Nikandros’s expression was stubborn.

 

“He was the one who told me about Jokaste,” Damen finally admitted, giving into his friend’s face.  It was the whole story, but it also wasn’t.  It didn’t account for the venom or the pleasure Laurent took from telling him.

 

It did make Nikandros more sympathetic and less suspicious.  Damen considered that a win.  Once Nikandros made up his mind about something, he was impossible to move. 

 

Nikandros took the company credit card, pulling Damen's work phone towards him and deliberately pressing the speaker button as he conducted business.  Damen was so busy thinking of how professional Laurent sounded over the phone without the visual of his face that he had a moment of wondering if maybe he'd imagined the whole thing. 

 

"Yes," Nikandros was agreeing to something Laurent said.  "At the end of the day every Friday."

 

"Do you have any flower preferences?" Laurent asked, and Damen felt a wave of relief that Nikandros was right, the solution was incredibly straightforward.  He just hadn't been able to see beyond how off keel he felt around Laurent.  Damen wasn't used to being intensely attracted to someone who outright hated him.

 

"I don't know," Nikandros answered.  "Whatever Damianos usually picks out."

 

"Whatever Damianos picks out," Laurent echoed slowly, and his tone definitely dropped a few degrees in warmth at Damen's name. He sounded like he couldn't believe that Nikandros dared to say it to him.  "For staff."

 

“That’s what I said,” Nikandros responded. 

 

Once Nikandros finished giving Laurent the rest of the details he looked across the desk at Damen.  "He hates you."

 

At least it wasn't all in his head.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

The arrangement seemed to be working, and Damen did his best to put it out of his mind, but he couldn’t quite stop thinking about Laurent.  Still, it was unexpected when the man showed up in the office space after closing, Damen looking up from tedious spreadsheets to find that he was being watched.

 

"Oh," Laurent said, staring at Damen.  He wasn't surprised, not exactly, but Damen had the impression that he wasn't what Laurent had expected.  "I saw the light on," he said, gesturing towards Damen with a flower arrangement in his hand.  "I didn't realize that you'd be the one burning the midnight oil."

 

Damen surveyed him back.  Laurent sounded like he was making an effort to sound friendly, even though the words could be taken as an insult.  "Clearly," he said. "Are you looking for someone specific?"

 

Laurent stepped forward without an invitation and placed the flowers on the desk in front of him.  "Vere won't be open tomorrow."

 

"I didn't realize you made deliveries yourself," Damen said.  If Laurent wanted to pretend that they could be civil, then he could do the same.  The words had more bite to them than he meant them to, but then it was hard to look at Laurent and not see the cruel line of his mouth as he'd told Damen about Jokaste.

 

It was harder not to look at him and wonder what it would take to get him to melt.

 

"I don't," Laurent answer, bringing one of his shoulders up in an elegant shrug.  "But you have a standing order and I - " he hesitated for a moment, as though realizing he was about to repeat himself and regretting that he'd tried to elucidate.  " - saw the light on."

 

"Thank you." Damen meant it sincerely, and then, because maybe they were trying for civility, he asked, "is everything ok? Vere has never been closed on a Friday before."

 

Laurent stared at him for a measure, his gaze so direct that Damen couldn't help but raise his chin and meet it like it was a direct attack.  "I'm turning 21," he answered in a curt tone, lips thinned.  He acted as though the answer had been forced out of him.

 

Damen couldn’t help but smile at the realization that maybe Laurent didn’t hold himself as austerely as he seemed to.  Anyone who closed their store to take their twenty-first birthday off knew how to let loose.  “Sounds fun,” he answered in a warm tone.

 

“Being dragged to court to fight for my birthright is anything but fun,” Laurent responded.  For a face that rarely showed expressions, he looked frustrated in himself for saying anything. 

 

“Oh.”  Damen didn’t really know what else to say in response to that.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

It was pouring out when Damen left the office, a cold spring rain that adhered freezing wet clothing to the skin within seconds.  Damen never bothered with an umbrella, especially so close to the coast where the wind made umbrellas a constant fight.  Weather had never bothered him; Damen enjoyed the sensation of the cool water beating over his skin, of the wild winds trying to push him back a step for every two he took.  It made him feel alive.

 

He regretted not carrying an umbrella anyway when he came across Laurent standing in front of Vere.  His face was blank of expression, but he struck Damen as lost all the same.  If Damen was built to withstand a storm, tilting his face up to the rain and feeling rejuvenated, Laurent seemed to be built to catch pneumonia, and for all that his mannerisms hinted at steel control, there was something about him in that moment that made Damen aware of that fragility.

 

"Laurent?" Damen questioned.

 

Laurent's head tilted slightly towards the sound of his voice, but he didn't blink otherwise.  Damen wasn't sure if he'd actually been heard or not over the sound of the rain and the traffic behind them.

 

"Laurent?" he repeated after taking a step closer.

 

Laurent turned and looked at him.  His impeccable hair was plastered to the sides of his face and his lips were turning blue.  He didn’t seem to recognize Damen for a moment and then his gaze snapped to attention, catching on Damen’s face.  "It will be a lengthy court process,” he finally said.  “He won’t relinquish control easily.”

 

“Who?” Damen questioned.

 

“My uncle,” Laurent answered, and shivered, seemingly coming awake in that moment to realize he’d been standing still in the rain for an indeterminate amount of time.  “I saw it coming, but I still…”

 

Damen might not always see the deception in the people closest to him, but he couldn’t imagine going through what Laurent was going through.  He felt empathetic towards him, almost pitying as he thought about what worries he had on his twenty-first birthday.  His father had still been alive back then, and his inheritance secure, and a piece of him wished that Laurent had the option of viewing his birthday as a celebration and had closed Vere to get as completely wasted as Damen had. 

 

Though, looking at the way his pale skin was pebbling from the cold, Damen thought getting blindingly drunk might still be the best way to end the day.  “Come on,” he said.  “You can’t do anything about it standing out here in the rain.  Go home.  Dry off.”

 

“Yes,” Laurent answered, but didn’t move except to list to the side, closer to Damen’s warmth.

 

Laurent was already blindingly drunk, Damen reassessed.  “Ok,” he said.  “Let me take you home.”

 

“I’m not interested in that with you.”

 

“No,” Damen responded.  “I don’t imagine you are.”  He curved his fingers around Laurent’s elbow and hailed a cab with his free hand.  “You’ve been very clear in your hatred for me.”  He helped Laurent into the back seat of the cab, sliding in next to him.  The cab driver wrinkled his nose at their soaked clothing, but said nothing about the fare.  “I don’t understand it.”

 

“Good,” Laurent responded fiercely.   He counteracted this statement by leaning his weight against Damen’s warmth.  He then gave his address to the cab driver in a clear tone without prompting, as though he was completely sober and his skin wasn’t so cold that Damen wasn’t actively worried about him.

 

“I don’t respect people who are unfaithful,” Laurent told him, and Damen wasn’t sure where the topic had come from.  “You always had a constant rotation of names on your cards, and made a point of picking out something else for your girlfriend and I…” Laurent broke off with a frustrated sound.  “Misunderstood.”

 

“Oh.”  There wasn’t much to be said in response to that except for gritting his teeth against the insult to his character as the cab pulled up outside of the address Laurent had given and Damen found himself paying for it before preparing to help haul Laurent out.

 

But Laurent, despite using Damen’s shoulder as support for the entire drive, exited the vehicle smoothly.  They stared at each other once they were standing, Damen’s hand half-way towards Laurent to offer help he didn’t need.

 

“I know I’m not someone you trust,” Damen said.  “But I’d like to see with my own eyes that you make it into your apartment ok.”  For some reason he’d pictured Laurent in a fancy townhouse, a place with original architecture and marble hallways.  Instead he lived in a modern high-rise, the largest concession to luxury being security at the entrance.

 

Maybe he should amend that sentence to _for some reason he pictured where Laurent lived_.  It was an odd, disconcerting thought.

 

Laurent observed him carefully with the weight of someone thinking out their actions.  Finally he nodded once, tersely, and led the way to the elevator, his posture straight even as he trailed wet footprints on the ground.  His hands were casually in his pockets, and he didn’t stumble once.  Damen wasn’t sure that his assessment of Laurent’s sobriety had been right until Laurent stopped in front of a door and stared at the keyhole before attempting, with great gravitas and poise, to unlock the door.

 

He failed.

 

Damen would find it adorable if he wasn’t convinced Laurent would shank him with the keys.

 

On the second try, Laurent’s hand was shaking so badly that he paused and frowned at it before handing his keys over to Damen.  “If you would be so kind,” he said and somehow managed to sound disdainful despite asking for a favour, calling Damen’s ability to be compassionate into question.

 

Once the door was unlocked, Laurent walked through it, leaving the door open.  “You may as well come in,” he said. 

 

Damen stared after him in confusion for a moment, his common sense telling him not to walk through the door while the compassionate side of him, still feeling the need to prove himself after Laurent’s last comment, told him that he should at least make sure Laurent changed and maybe took a warm bath.

 

Damen stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him.  When he turned back to face Laurent, he was out of his shirt, his long fingers moving to unbutton his pants.  As though sensing Damen watching him, he looked up and their eyes met.  “If you want to fuck me,” he said, in that careful tone that suggested he was picking his words deliberately.  “You may as well try.”

 

“What?” 

 

“You wouldn’t be the first to attempt it today,” Laurent observed, and his pants fell to his feet with a wet squelching sound.

 

“ _What?_ ” Damen echoed, horrified.

 

There was a gleam in Laurent’s eye as he stepped forward, a challenge to his pose.  He was completely naked and somehow what Damen couldn’t look away from was his face.  “I might even let you.”  He stepped past Damen and took a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around himself and sitting down.

 

Damen hadn’t felt so off-center since learning about Jokaste.

 

“What’s the matter?  If you don’t know what to do, I can direct you,” Laurent observed, and he unfurled from his position on the couch, his legs sliding down the leather until he was draped across it.  He was bare from the thighs down and was using his body as an attack.  “By your reputation, I’d think you’d be balls-deep by now.”

 

Damen suddenly understood that Laurent was really incredibly furious and was looking to direct that fury outward.

 

“I should go,” Damen said.

 

“Yes,” Laurent agreed.  “You should.”

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Nikandros stood in the doorway to Damen’s office and stopped.  By his expression, it was clear he was trying to figure something out.  “The delivery from Vere arrived.”

 

“Yes, and?”  Damen had a horrible thought that Laurent had taken what had transpired between them on Friday out on the flowers.  But then, Laurent very clearly held Vere above everything in his life, and as much as he clearly hated Damen, he put his store first.  He wouldn’t risk its reputation for something as petty as hurt feelings.

 

“These are for you,” he said, dropping a familiar-looking bouquet on Damen’s desk and giving him a knowing look, one that said ‘I know you fucked the florist’ even though he couldn’t be more wrong.

 

Damen looked at them for a long moment, wondering what Laurent meant by sending him a wedding bouquet.  A piece of his heart warmed, thrumming in knowing excitement at the idea of a peace offering, while the rest of him still felt wary.  He plucked the card out, noting that Laurent had to use one of the ones that folded to fit his entire message.

 

_Etymology of the word Vere in Latin means Truly. My parents named the store simply and created this flower arrangement to match. It has been our standard since the day the doors opened 30 years ago._

_If I am to be a rose, it is in the thorns you will find my likeness; Forget-me-nots for my actions towards you not to be turned aside. ~Laurent_

 

Damen stared at the note for longer than he could really justify not getting back to work, confused by the meaning of it.  He understood the words.  He might even understand the message.  He couldn’t even deny that it had been delivered _with flowers_.  What he didn’t understand was Laurent.  The message wasn’t an apology, and if it was a truce it very clearly said ‘take me as I am.’

 

But Damen considered that he might have just been _insulted_.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Damen wasn’t prone to impulse.

 

Except for when he was.

 

So he sent Laurent the lawyer Akielos had on retainer and tried not to think too hard about which it was. 

 

“Thank you,” Laurent’s frigid tone carried through the phone line when Damen received a call 12 hours later.  It was immediately transparent that Laurent was not actually thanking him.  “But I’ve sent the man away.  It’s a very clear conflict of interest considering your brother has retained your legal team on my uncle’s behalf.”

 

“What?” Damen questioned.  His question sounded far more helplessly confused than he meant it, but he was rapidly growing angry at the implications. 

 

“Didn’t you know?” Laurent asked as a contemptuous vibe, as though he already expected Damen to be completely in the dark.

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Damen promised.

 

Laurent’s bark of laughter over the phone wasn’t kind.

 

“Akielos belonged to my mother, not Kastor’s,” Damen responded to him in anger.  “It’s now mine.  _I’ll take care of it._ ”

 

For all that Damen had felt sympathy for Laurent when hearing about his uncle’s duplicity, Damen did not take kindly to this second betrayal from his half-brother.  Kastor’s disadvantage was his greed and his lack of far-sightedness.  Buying his removal from the company with a large lump sum of money was easy, on paper.  It weighed heavier on Damen’s mind than it did on his finances.

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Damen looked up and the first thing he saw was Laurent’s blond hair.  Somehow it looked like it was glinting even under the terrible florescent lighting in the hallway.  The second thing he saw was Nikandros standing behind Laurent, his eyes mockingly wide as he mouthed ‘what the fuck’ and gestured to Laurent’s everything.  ‘Him??’ he questioned next, gesturing so violently that Laurent’s hair moved and he turned his head slightly to look back at Nikandros.

 

“Leave us,” Damen ordered.

 

“He has a point,” Laurent conceded once Nikandros gave a slightly ironic bow and left.  “What the fuck, Damianos?”

 

Damen stared at him.

 

“The glass is reflective.”

 

“I’ll make sure to tell my staff,” Damen responded.  “What _what the fuck_ are you what-the-fucking about?” He had the pleasure of watching the corner of Laurent’s mouth softening a bit, as though amused.

 

“My uncle no longer has legal council,” Laurent informed him instead, walking up to the window and looking out it.  “You followed through on your promise.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I suppose,” Laurent mused with a bitter bite, drawing closer to the desk.  “I should thank you.” Laurent gracefully went on his knees in front of him, and Damen was so taken back by the motion that the words didn’t hit him until Laurent’s hand was reaching for his belt.

 

“Whoa,” he responded, pushing back so that his chair rolled in the empty space behind it until the back hit the window.  He felt disarmed, shocked by the unexpected turn this had taken.  “What are you doing? No.  _No_ you shouldn’t thank me if that’s what you think I expect from you.”

 

Laurent used sex as a weapon.  Maybe it wasn’t as unexpected as Damen thought.

 

Laurent was calm leaning back on his ankles, his eyes weighing Damen.  “Then I don’t know why you did it.  You’re very clearly motivated by your attraction to me.” He tilted his head to the side.  “I can see that thinking of your own motives makes you uncomfortable.  Let me do this and then we’ll be even.  We don’t like each other.  It’s going no where between us.”  He opened his hands, showing Damen his palms as though to finish his point.  “I’ll blow you and we’ll be done with it.  You’re not completely repulsive, if that’s your concern.”

 

Damen took in a shuddering breath.  Laurent’s words filled him with horror, but there was also a tendril of truth to them, a seductive honesty in the idea that he might consider if he wasn’t the person he was.  “No,” he said with a definitive sense of finality.  “Get up.  If you don’t want to owe me for being a good person, then comp Akielos free flowers for the month.  Don’t…” he gestured helplessly.

 

“Offer sexual favours,” Laurent filled in, completely without shame as he got to his feet with the same amount of grace as he fell to his knees.  Damen had no idea what was going through his head.  “Fine.” He paused like he was going to say something else but decided against it, nodding to Damen with a sense of respect and turning on his heel, leaving the office with his head held high.

 

Somehow the entire confrontation felt like he was being put in his place, called out on actions that hadn’t been as altruistic as he liked to think himself as being.  He wondered if Laurent had ever expected for him to agree or if he’d been driving home his point, and he felt even worse for thinking of the shape of Laurent’s mouth when he wondered if he’d been prepared to go through with it.

 

Laurent, quite frankly, was _terrifying_.

 

Damen knew that he’d made the right decision, but he also now knew that he couldn’t think of himself as a good person when presented with temptation, because a part of him had _wanted to take it_. 

 

x.x.x.x.

 

Damen walked back into Vere the moment the last of the repayment flowers arrived.  Laurent looked up at the sound of the door opening, his eyebrows going up when he saw Damen.  “You were wrong,” Damen said as he approached the counter, feeling anything but confident.  “I think it could go somewhere between us.  I think we might even be able to like each other, but that’s a decision you’ll have to make.  Would you be willing to move forward and go on a date with me?”

 

Laurent had been leaning against the back counter, arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on his face as Damen asked his question.  “Are you asking for a clean slate?” he questioned, putting his hands on the counter in front of Damen and moving into his space, so close that Damen could see the individual blues in his irises. 

 

“No,” Damen responded.  His fingers reached out towards Laurent, but instead of touching him, he brushed a fingertip against the forget-me-nots in the vase by his hand.  “No clean slate.  I’d like to keep what I’ve learned about you, to base a possible relationship on everything that’s happened.”

 

Damen understood then what Laurent’s message had meant in its entirety.

 

Laurent’s eyes followed the motion, and then he looked up at Damen, considering. He moved so that his fingers cradled the flowers, the delicate petals between both of their hands.  Laurent stared at the visual for a while. “Ok,” he said finally, smiling.  It was surprisingly shy and tentative from a mouth that always seemed so harsh and unforgiving.  “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I [tumblr](http://relenafanel.tumblr.com/)


End file.
